


Vriska ==> Visit General Terror’s Lab

by AmariT



Series: Visitors [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Superstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmariT/pseuds/AmariT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You worked your whole life to become a hero, so how did you end up here? </p><p>John's exploits in a world of heroes and villains, and the slow death of idealism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vriska ==> Visit General Terror’s Lab

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marzichan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzichan/gifts).



> Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://amarits.tumblr.com/post/15537637204/vriska-visit-general-terrors-lab)

It’s reached the point that you’re no longer surprised to find all assortments of people populating General Terror’s lab. He’s played host to heroes and villains alike in recent months, and when caught is always quick with what you’re sure strikes him as a perfectly reasonable explanation. Even when diddling about the lab with his arch nemesis—or, you suppose, who you once thought of as his arch nemesis—he is able to give the most villainous excuse. He was helping to remove a powerful hero from this timeline.

But even the success of that endeavor did not prevent further visits from the familiar blonde currently occupying the lab. You suppose it’s in part because his brother still refuses to buy him his own lab equipment that he frequents General Terror’s lair, but you suspect that his constant presence is better explained by the way his gaze lingers on GT’s ass anytime the villain turns around.

So you hardly spare a glance at The Tailorbird, or Titanium Taskmaster, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, but despite months of lowered expectations, you’re still taken aback by the lab’s third occupant. If it is any consolation, he seems just as surprised to see you, his blue eyes widening at your arrival.

“What’s going on?” you demand of GT.

He’s hunched over an open device, as absorbed by its progress as if it were his own project instead of one of TT’s many recent creations. “This is John,” he replies, barely sparing you a glance. “John, Vriska. We’re trying to convince him to help us with tomorrow’s heist.”

Of course, this is John. You are already well-aware of his name. What you don’t know is what he, someone who could not be less villainous, is doing in a villain’s lair. John has started blushing, a furious red engulfing his visible skin, and he tries to hide it behind the fabric of his hoodie.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” you ask.

“I trust John,” GT replies. “He’s been aware of various villainous plots over the past few months without reporting them.”

“Is that so?” you ask, scrutinizing John again. From the buck teeth shining brightly against his crimson skin to his scuffed shoes, no one has ever looked less evil. “But I meant, isn’t it dangerous for him? With all the heroes patrolling the city these days, it hardly seems a good idea to bring along an amateur.”

“John’s a super,” GT says finally tearing his gaze away from TT’s work to look at you. “He’ll be able to handle himself in a fight.”

“Well, this I have to see for myself,” you reply. “Come on, John.” You emphasize his name. The others will think it’s because you just met him, but you know John will recognize it for what it is—you’re calling him out. “How about a few minutes in the training room. Let’s see what you can do.”

John glances uncertainly at TT, who nods and says, “It’ll be fine.” John nods back, nibbling his bottom lip with his protruding teeth, and then stands up and follows you out of the lab.

“All the times we’ve hung out, you never struck me as the villainous type,” you comment to John as you stroll down the hallway, movements casual despite your seething thoughts.

“Neither did you,” he replies, not looking at you. All you can see of him is a tuft of black hair protruding from his hood.

“I suppose some people are just really good at hiding their true intentions,” you answer, holding the door to the training room open for him. He shuffles past you and waits on the other side of the room, gaze still avoiding yours.

“Do you want to change before we start?” you ask, grabbing two blasters from the artillery rack. “Maybe get a weapon?”

“No.”

“Then, go ahead and attack.” You spread your feet, adopting a fighting stance, but he doesn’t move. He remains slouched with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped.

“You first,” he replies.

This will be quick, you think as you make sure the blasters are set to stun. You’re annoyed, sure, but you don’t want to kill the boy. You raise one of the weapons slowly, languidly, giving him plenty of time to run or duck, but he remains still, staring at the floor. The slightest of breezes gently flits across your hand as you level the gun to his chest, light as eyelashes on your skin. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it hadn’t seemed out of place in the stuffy, windowless room, and even then you pay it no mind, foolishly contributing it to a fan or vent that didn’t exist.

You pull the trigger and instantly you’re slammed backwards against the wall, fireflies dancing in your darkened vision. Simultaneously, the gun flies in the opposite direction, slowing as it approaches the far corner and gently landing on the floor. John has moved now, and at first you don’t understand where he’s gone. Then your gaze drifts upwards and you see him floating above his previous position, sitting in midair as the breeze rustles through his clothing.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you mutter as you climb to your feet. “Let’s try that again.”

Your next few attempts go only slightly better, but you still haven’t used your primary weapon. In round five, you let him think he has the advantage, and then quickly invade his mind, grasping hold of all that he is.

“You have to be prepared for anything, John,” you tease. You think perhaps you’ll make him do something embarrassing, or have him use his powers against himself, but first you’ll explore a little.

You flit through memories like a ghost, briefly possessing the participants and joining their lives in progress. You’re a child throwing pies at your dad, an awkward preteen trying to comb your untamable hair before your first school dance, the class clown in your high school yearbook. You’re lying on the ground staring up at a wall with a thin rope dangling from it and you don’t understand how you could have been tripped up by this obstacle. You’ve beaten this obstacle. You’ve beaten this obstacle several times. How can you train for months only to do worse than you did before? You grit your teeth and struggle to your feet, feeling a surge of determination shoot through you. You still have two tries. This was just a fluke.

And then you’re climbing into the passenger side of your dad’s car, wiping tears from your cheeks. Your dad puts his hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it away. You don’t understand how he can still be proud of you when you’re such a failure. A literal failure. You have failed more times than most people have tried. You wonder if you should be pleased with your unwillingness to give up, but maybe that’s just another of your failures—your failure to be intelligent enough to realize that you’re just not good enough and you never will be.

But as you stand in front of a mirror admiring your ragtag get-up, pieced together from a combination of your and your dad’s wardrobes, you don’t feel like a failure. You feel clever, like you’ve beaten the system. Why should you need to attend a hero academy to become a hero? You don’t need to go to art school to be an artist; you just need to draw. It’s ridiculous to think anyone can tell you that you can’t help people in danger or save lives just because you haven’t passed some exam.

And then you’re on your back again, bleeding and hurting and possibly concussed, but you’re happy. You’re gleeful. You’re ecstatic. You saved someone’s life. Sure, you got the crap beat out of you, but you saved someone’s life and that makes you a hero no matter what some licensing committee tells you.

When you meet Dave you see him not as a hero, but as another hero. A coworker. Undoubtedly a more experienced and effective coworker, but a coworker nonetheless.

But as you talk to him you stumble over your words, recognizing the suspicion in his gaze when you say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question, and you start to feel less like an artist succeeding without training and more like a surgical quack trying to fool others through your unskilled incisions into believing that you have a medical degree.

You’re relieved when you hear the scream for help, both because it allows you to escape your unintentional interrogator and because it gives you a chance to prove to yourself once again that you are making a positive difference in the world.

And you do make a difference. Slowing a criminal down until a better hero takes him out is making a difference. You repeat this to yourself and you’re almost convinced that you believe it.

Moving into an apartment with Dave is easy, both because neither you nor Dave seem to have any possessions and because being friends with Dave is effortless, as if you’ve always known each other instead of only for a few days. And when he references experiences you never shared, you would laugh it off as irony or shenanigans except for the pained expression that momentarily flits across his face when he realizes his mistake.

He takes you crime fighting and you know you’re still not good enough, but you think that perhaps, with his help, you could be.

When he introduces you to his brother, you’ve been living together for months and your only thought is that you didn’t even know Dave had a brother. You wonder if this is who he was looking for, but how could the two of them have become so thoroughly separated? “Strider,” the brother tells you his name is. That sounds to you like a last name. Is it Dave’s last name too? The name Dave Strider tugs at your memories, producing clips from movies that you love, but that clearly can’t be the same Dave Strider. Dave’s brother is distant, detached, but you like him, and it’s nice to have another friend.

Though you wish that they would invite you to join them more often. Dave is out with his brother again, almost every night this week, and most of the last month. You don’t mind him spending quality time with his only sibling, but you don’t understand why they don’t want you along. You think they’re hiding something, and you’re trying not to be jealous, but Dave is your only close friend and he’s slipping away. That’s not just paranoia. It’s a fact that you feel so thoroughly through your being that it aches like a bed of nails sinking into your skin.

You’re surprised to see Strider in your window. Though it’s not really Strider; it’s The Tailorbird, Strider’s heroic alter ego. Dave is out again, but you don’t know where this time. Apparently not with his brother. “Do you feel like fighting crime?” he asks.

You jump to your feet. “Yeah! Yeah, just give me…” You rustle through your stuff, looking for your costume, tugging it on, and now where is your mask and why do you only have one shoe! You could swear The Tailorbird’s gaze is bemused, even though his features haven’t altered from their usual stoney countenance.

The Tailorbird jumps from the window and you’re fairly certain you can’t do that, so you leave your apartment the normal way and meet him on the sidewalk.  
“This isn’t the best way for heroes to travel,” he comments, and you blush but it’s the best you can do for now.

“What kind of crime are we going to fight?” you ask, bouncing with excitement. Dave’s been so busy lately and he worries when you get into fights, so it’s been awhile since you’ve done much more than help an old lady across the street.

“My arch nemesis is doing something stupid again, so we’re going to stop him,” TT replies, and you stop mid-stride, almost toppling to the ground before your foot realizes that it needs to help you remain vertical.

“I don’t think I’m at a fighting arch nemeses level,” you stutter.

“Don’t worry,” TT says, glancing back at you. “I’ll help you out. He’s not that great of an arch nemesis anyway.”

It’s at this point you realize that Dave probably put his brother up to this. Your insecurities insist that Dave’s tired of trying to show you the ropes, or that he no longer wants to be disappointed by who you fail to be, but you know it’s more likely that he’s trying to make sure that you’re safe when he’s not around.

You’re not completely certain what TT’s arch nemesis is doing, but it seems to involve bulky electronics with faulty trigger mechanisms.

He sputters when he sees you. “Who is this? When did you get a sidekick?”

“EvilBuster, General Terror. General Terror, EvilBuster.” The Tailorbird casually introduces you like you’re all about to sit down to tea. “He’s new, so I’m helping him out.”

“When exactly was I downgraded to training exercise?” General Terror fumes.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” TT replies. “You’ve been upgraded to training exercise. From doormat.”

GT bristles and blusters about how he’s about to “show you all”, but the rectangular device in his hand is still failing to elicit the proper response, so he yells, “Otto, keep them distracted while I get this working!”

You’re not sure who he’s talking to, but then a metallic form breaks away from the large doomsday device and you realize a robot had been leaning against it, camouflaged by their similar exteriors.

As the robot saunters towards you, you notice that he has a familiar hairline, build, and pair of sunglasses. “That robot kind of looks like…” You trail off as you look between the approaching robot and your companion's almost identical profiles. 

“Yeah, I know,” TT mutters.

Otto lunges towards you, and TT steps to the side, saying, “I’m going to let you handle this.”

“Wait, what?!” you exclaim, and then the robot is right in front of you. You awkwardly block his punch with your forearm and your exhalation of pain comes out as a squeak.

“You need to block more like this,” TT calmly informs you, demonstrating. You roll to the side to escape the robot’s next attack and kick at his shin, yelping as your foot makes contact with metal.

“Don’t just blindly attack anything you can reach,” TT instructs. “Think about what you’re doing. Analyze your enemies weak points and aim for them.”  
“I don’t know what his weak points are!” you yell.

“Nobody’s going to tell you what their weak points are, and you’re never going to have very long to figure it out.”

You try to study the robot’s movements as you duck, block, and run from his blows. What are his weak points? Eyes maybe? That’s most creatures’ weak point, but you’re not even certain his eyes are how he sees. What about his joints? His limbs and torso are probably thick metal, but his joints must be less solid to allow him movement. You start aiming at his ankles, knees, shoulders, elbows, wrists, and you may be imagining things, but you think it’s slowing him down. You start to feel like you’re really in this fight. Not that you can win—you know you can’t win—but that you’re a real participant and not just a victim. It’s the happiest you’ve been since you saved that first life, and it’s the first time in a long time that you’ve felt like maybe you really do have what it takes to be a hero.

Eventually TT pulls the robot off of you, saying, “That’s enough.”

He instructs you to stay where you are, and then drags the robot back to GT and throws him to the ground.

You can’t hear what he and GT say to each other, but you suspect it’s the usual hero/villain banter. You settle in your spot, excited to have a front row seat to a battle between nemeses. After a little more back and forth, TT tries to take the device, GT tries to punch him, and soon they’re rolling around on the ground.

A movement in the peripheral of your vision draws your attention away from the fight and you notice that Otto has risen to his feet and is watching you. You have just enough time to feel an anxious knot form in your stomach before the robot springs towards your position. “Tailorbi…!” Your yell is interrupted by Otto’s fist hitting you. You block the way TT showed you and are flung backwards, but the pain is less than previous blows.

“Tai…!” He’s on top of you, pinning your body with his own and fist flying towards your face. You close your eyes and turn your head as you scream, but the pain never comes and the weight is lifted off of you. You open your eyes and sit up on your elbows, dazedly looking around. General Terror and The Tailorbird are standing together, both looking at you, and Otto is on the ground a few yards from them, sparking.

The Tailorbird must have… grabbed Otto and yanked him away from you just in time? Then gone back to his battle with General Terror… but checking from a distance to make sure you’re okay?

The sequence of events doesn’t make any sense, but your head hurts and you don’t want to think about it.

General Terror and The Tailorbird exchange a few more words, and then GT hands TT the device, just hands it to him, and goes to his robot. He seems concerned, checking him over and helping him to his feet. Otto glares at you and you cower away, and then realize that, as a hero, you should have more bravado. So you puff up your chest and try to look strong.

TT throws the device on the ground and smashes it under his foot, then struts towards you, studying you intensely. You start to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, like you’ve done something wrong. You thought the crime fighting went pretty well, actually. Not so great there at the end, but overall pretty okay. Better than you would have expected.

But under his continued scrutiny you start to stutter, “I know this was a bit more than I’m really ready for but… I mean, thank you for the save there at the end.” You laugh nervously. “Hopefully, I won’t always need to be saved, but… um…”

He scrunches his brow as you stammer, and when you finally stop says, “Come on.”

You walk in silence through the city streets and stop at the front door to Skaiopolis’s tallest building. It’s closed for the night and you’re not sure what you’re doing there. TT uses some device you didn’t know he had to shut off the building’s alarm and open the door. It’s a bit more criminal than you’re really comfortable with, but you’re sure he only has it to help with his heroic pursuits.

He uses the device a few more time as you walk through the building and finally exit onto the roof. You’re so high up here and the wind flows unimpeded by surrounding architecture. Despite your nerves, you can’t help but smile as the current flows through you, energizing you.

You realize TT is watching you and you grin sheepishly at him.

“How does it make you feel?” he asks.

“The fight?” You chew at your lip, considering the best way to explain it.

“No,” he corrects you, “the wind.”

“Oh! I guess how it makes everyone feel. Energized. Excited.”

“It doesn’t make everyone feel that way, Egbert,” he replies, tightly crossing his arms. “It’s just making me feel cold. Have you ever tried doing anything with it?”

“With the wind? Why would I…” You trail off as you realize what he’s working at. “You think..?”

“Just try.”

He sits against the small bit of brick jutting up just far enough for the elevator’s exit, huddled against its facade, and you walk to the edge of the roof where the wind is strongest. You don’t feel cold at all. You raise your hand into the empty space beyond the railing and tendrils of air curl around your fingers. This doesn’t seem unusual to you, but as you look back at TT shivering against the wall, it occurs to you that maybe your sensations are unique. You concentrate on the tendrils, willing them to do something, anything. Then you realize that they already are doing something, anything, and you focus your thoughts, imagining a tiny tornado in the palm of your hand. The wind wisps, circles, cyclones, dies down, then circles again. It’s not perfect, fading unsteadily in and out of existence, but you created it. You gasp and it snuffs out completely.

“What do I do?” you ask, turning to TT.

“Dave would know better than I do.” The way he says it, you know that there’s more that he’s not telling you, but you’re too excited to worry about it.

“I can’t believe… How did I never..?” You try to urge the wind to act again, but, besides moving a little quicker around you, it follows it’s own path.

“It’ll take training before you can do anything significant,” TT says, pushing himself to his feet. “Just like anything else. But you’re going to be powerful.”

You giggle, pacing around the roof. “What are we doing now? Is there more crime to fight?”

“Not tonight,” he replies. “I think you should talk to Dave. But we’ll do this again soon.”

Dave’s less excited then you expected him to be. He’s certainly happy for you, but the moment you tell him, it’s clear that his mind is on something else—or more likely, you realize, on someone else. That person who you so often remind him of but continuously fail to be. And you’re too excited by this development to share it with Dave’s past, so you excuse yourself into your bedroom, open a window, and breathe in the possibilities dancing on the wind.

You’re alone in the apartment again. Dave and Strider are doing whatever it is they do. You thought that, perhaps, after the previous night’s escapades you’d be invited this time, but their secrets still hold precedence.

You’re thinking about going up to the roof to experiment with the wind when there’s a knock at the door. You open it and too late realize that you should have looked through the peephole or left the chain secured. Otto slams his way in and closes the door behind him.

You back up, your eyes flitting about the room. You don’t want to take your attention off of Otto for too long, but you’re searching for options. Your phone is on an end table against the back wall. There’s a tall lamp only a couple of feet back that could work as a weapon. You try to call the wind to your aid, but you can’t sense it in the stagnant room.

“How attached are you to being a hero?” Otto asks calmly, matching you step for step.

“I… What do you mean?” You’re only a few paces from the lamp now.

“You could join our side.” His head slowly moves down and back up as he takes in your appearance. “You’re weak now, but you have so much potential. We know people who could train you, make you strong.”

“That’s never going to happen,” you say, ever so slightly turning your hand to make it easier to quickly grab the lamp.

“Unfortunate. You see, General Terror has too many obstacles as is. I’m afraid I can’t let another powerful hero emerge. Not when it would be so easy to prevent.”

Your heart jumps to your throat. You’re beside the lamp now and you grab it, swinging it full force at his knees, but he catches it effortlessly and breaks it in two. You look desperately for another weapon, but the moment your head turns, Otto punches you in the stomach and you double over.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, placing his foot on your chest and kicking you backwards so that you’re lying on your back with his weight on top of you. “No, I shouldn’t lie. I would love to hurt you.” He crouches with his foot still pinning you down. “It’s just that General Terror wouldn’t like it. But I live to serve General Terror, and sometimes properly serving him means doing things that he wouldn’t like.”

His hand closes around your throat and you shut your eyes, growing deathly still as you will yourself to feel every breath, every movement of air, every slightest draft and pour them all into one burst exploding from your core.

Otto is flung backwards, but only a couple of yards, and he tumbles easily to his feet. It’s not enough. You need to get outside to where you’ll at least have a chance. You cough and scramble backwards, stumbling somehow into an awkward run. Before you can fully think it through, you’re racing full speed towards the far side of the room. You grab your phone off of the end table, throw your arms in front of your head, and jump through the window.

You’re several floors up, and as you begin to fall it strikes you how bad of an idea this was. But you can feel the wind now, rushing around you faster than you’ve ever felt before, and you grasp hold of it. You can’t stop yourself completely, or even consistently slow your decent, but you manage to alternate between plunging and drifting. You hit the ground hard but without an any broken bones, so you deem that a success.

You’re running again before the word can even properly form in your mind. You don’t look back, but you hear a crash of metal against pavement, a sound you recognize from construction sites, and you know that you don’t have long.

You’ve never been so glad to have Dave on speed dial. You slam into someone as you look down at your phone and mumble apologies as you quickly navigate around them. The phone starts to ring and you raise it to your ear. One ring, two. For a terrifying moment you think he won’t answer.

“Sup?”

“Killer robot,” you gasp, with barely enough air to keep running, let alone speak. “Went out back. Of apartment. Running towards. Video store.”

A metal hand grabs your upper arm, swinging you around, and your phone clatters down the sidewalk, away from you.

“You are a bother,” Otto says, raising his fist. You call on the wind, preparing to fight, but a hand wraps around Otto’s wrist and flings him into the wall of the building beside you. Dave steps between you and Otto as the robot regains his posture, and you give silent thanks for his time powers.

Otto surveys this new situation and takes a step back, clearly aware that the tides have turned against him.

“He won’t be here to protect you much longer,” Otto calls to you over Dave’s shoulder. “His time brace is almost fixed, and then he has to go home. Tick, tock.” He flees then. You see Dave’s muscles tense, ready to pursue, but then they relax and he turns around.

“Are you okay,” he asks, eyes taking in every inch of your body.

“Yes, I’m…” You pause to assess your health. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline, but you really feel perfectly okay. “I’m fine.”

Dave looks over his shoulder at the robot’s path. “That was Otto,” he mutters. You’re about to say you know because you fought him the night before and has Dave fought him too? But Dave grabs your wrist saying, “We need to get Bro.”

The world slows, cars inching by at the speed of snails, the movements of people around you so sluggish that they barely seem to be moving at all. Is this how Dave sees the world when he flash-steps?

And then everything fast forwards and you cling to Dave as the world flies past you too quickly for you to understand. You’re not sure whether you’re experiencing the world as Dave does or if you just aren’t built to handle time manipulation so your brain is malfunctioning.

When it slows again, you’re entering a lair. You’ve never been in a lair before but everything about the surrounding decor screams that you’re in one now.  
Dave knows exactly where he’s going and leads you through a maze of hallways and into a fully equipped laboratory.

Time is still—is it more time manipulation or shock?—as you look through the lab at The Tailorbird and General Terror hunched together over a familiar arm brace hooked up to a mess of wires and equipment. They jump up when they see you, and it’s only in their reactions that you realize how bad you must look. The broken glass tore your clothes and left cuts all over your body, and you’re fairly certain a bruise is forming where Otto grasped your throat. You’re starting to have trouble swallowing.

“What happened?” TT asks.

“His robot,” Dave replies, motioning to GT.

“What?” GT sputters. “I didn’t order any such thing!”

“You honestly expect me to believe you’re innocent?” Dave growls. “Your robot took a pretty good shot at killing John.”

“He…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but everyone’s attention turns to you. “I think he’s telling the truth. The robot… Otto… specifically said something like…” You pause, trying to remember the exact words. “General Terror wouldn’t like me killing you, but sometimes properly serving General Terror means doing things he wouldn’t like.”

There’s silence in the room, and then GT says, “I will talk to him.”

“You will destroy him or I will destroy you.” Dave’s voice is calm but cold as ice, and you know he means every word.

“I WILL NOT.” GT stomps his foot like a tantruming child. “Otto is my best friend and you are nothing but insects in need of a good squishing!”

Dave steps forward raising a fist, but TT intervenes.

“GT will talk to him,” he intones.

“Yes, yes I will,” GT replies, much calmer.

“Though I think you should be concerned that your robot is following his own agenda.”

“Perhaps you should be concerned that a robot developed from your DNA turned out to be so ruthless!” GT shoots back.

TT returns his gaze cooly. “We should take John to the hospital, make sure he’s okay. Can I trust you not to mess with Dave’s arm brace? It shouldn’t be moved right now.”

“Of course! It’s degrading that you would even ask! Maybe you should worry more about your robotic twin messing with it.”

TT narrows his eyes as he contemplates this, and then grabs a contraption and a couple of tools off of the nearby shelves. He pulls the casing off of the device and tweaks the insides, apparently making a few quick adjustments. Then he sets it up next to the armband and a transparent shield appears around the equipment.

“There, that should protect it from any meddling until I come back.”

“How insulting!” GT exclaims.

“Yes, it is,” TT mutters as he strides past us out the door. “To me.”

The three of you sit in a car on your way to the hospital. TT stares out the window, his gaze avoiding both you and Dave.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, John,” he says finally. His tone is emotionless, but you know he’s sincere.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper.

“There are many ways that it is.”

“What…” You raise your voice even though it hurts your throat. You’re starting to feel all of the aches and pains from your attack. “What were you doing there?”

“It’s complicated,” he replies.

“That just means you don’t want to tell me.” You turn to Dave. “Does this have to do with what Otto said about you leaving soon?”

Dave hesitates, and then answers, “Yes. I’m not… from this timeline. I was trying to go back in time to save my friends and something went wrong. I ended up here, where everyone is different.”

“And the person you see when you look at me is a different timeline’s version of me?”

He doesn’t answer, but you know you’re right. “I need to get back to my timeline. There are people depending on me. But my time brace is broken. My bro has the technical expertise to fix it, but not the equipment, so we convinced GT that it’s in his best interest to let us use his lab.”

“Because you’ll be gone,” you whisper.

“Yeah. So in a way it’s like defeating a hero.”

You pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around yourself. You’re starting to feel woozy, but you force your brain to stay active.

“How long?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Dave says. “But not very.”

You start training as soon as you’re better. Actually, you start training before you’re better, your wounds only barely scabbed over and your breathing still labored. But you train hard, Dave pushing you as far as you can go because he doesn’t want to leave you without the ability to protect yourself.

Under Dave’s tutelage, your powers develop quickly. You understand now why Strider told you to go to him. He already knows exactly what you are capable of doing because his John could already do it all. You wonder why he didn’t tell you. Maybe if he had you could have discovered your powers so much sooner.

You try to spend as much time with Dave as you can, but in every moment you hear a clock ticking down. And then his time brace is fixed and he’s leaving.

“I don’t want to go,” he tells you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “I have to.”

“I know,” you reply. “You don’t belong here.”

“I do belong here,” he says, pushing you out to an arm’s length away so he can look you in the eyes. “I just… belong somewhere else more. And I have promises I need to keep.”

You nod, and you can feel the tears threatening to fall but you force them back and smile at him. “Good luck with everything.”

“Thanks. You too.” He glances behind you at his brother. Strider is being aloof and cool, acting like he doesn’t care, but you know he’ll miss Dave too. “Take care of each other, okay?”

And then he’s gone and it just makes sense to move in with Strider—you can’t afford the apartment by yourself—but it feels a little like you’re transferring your life from one Strider to another. He takes over your training, your household disputes, your movie nights, and, like Dave, eventually he starts disappearing at night with no explanation and losing interest in your crime fighting outings.

He’s so similar to Dave in so many ways, but you try not to think like that. You don’t want him to feel the way you always felt with Dave, like you’re always thinking of someone else when you’re with him.

You’re stronger now than you were with Dave, though, so you don’t even hesitate before going out to fight crime on your own when Strider’s too busy to assist.

You’re able to fight all levels of villains. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, but you know that, regardless, you’ll be able to survive. So when you see a villain you’ve never encountered before, with green spiky hair and a utility belt filled with gadgets, you approach him without fear.

“Stop in the name of the law!” you yell, striking a heroic pose from the highest available point.

He’s in the process of using a small handheld device to access a building through a door on its roof. Your exclamation gives him pause, and then he stands and turns towards you. “Are you a police officer?” he asks.

“I’m an… almost certified arbiter of justice!”

“Almost certified?” He smirks ever so slightly, a form of subtle expression you’re only able to recognize from years of experience with stone-faced Striders.

“I’m already stopping crime, so it actually seem a little silly to go through some certification process to continue doing what I’m already doing.” Why are you explaining this? No matter how much crime-fighting experience you gain, you always get easily detoured into off topic babbling.

“Makes sense, though you do realize this means I feel no need to recognize your authority.” He’s casually flipping the device in his hand, apparently waiting for you to go on your way so he can get back to work.

“You don’t need to recognize my authority for me to kick your ass!” you exclaim.

His hand lowers to his utility belt. “Maybe you should follow that bark up with some bite.”

“Or maybe you should better watch your back!” another voice yells. You turn quickly to shield yourself from the second villain’s attack, but he pauses before pulling the trigger of the gun he has leveled at you. “Oh. Hey, John.”

You’ve never had a particularly friendly encounter with General Terror, and have, in fact, fought him several times (though admittedly not for months) so you’re not sure why he hesitates in his attack. Nor are you certain why he chose to use the name John instead of that of your alter-ego. When was he ever even introduced to you as that?

“You are the worst villain,” the other criminal intones from behind you.

GT bristles and sputters, “I will not take villainy advice from you!”

“I don’t know why. I’m so much better than you at it.”

Everything start to click. The demeanor, the back-and-forth banter with GT, the device he’d been using to open the door, one you knew you recognized.

You’re torn between fighting him as gently as possible and throwing him from the roof. He grasps one of the devices in his belt and you fling him into the air before he can pull it out. But instead of slamming him against anything, you concentrate the wind into a tight cyclone, holding him in place. GT quickly raises his gun again and starts to pull the trigger but you blast him backwards and he almost tumbles over the edge of the roof. He catches his balance but loses his gun into the abyss.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask your captive quietly.

“Why do villains do anything?” he asks, and you tighten the tornado’s circumference so the tumultuous winds are ripping at his clothes.

“Does everyone think I’m an idiot?” you demand, tears starting to flow down your face. Why do you always cry? Why are you such a wimp that every fucking thing makes you cry? “That I never notice anything? That I’ll never figure anything out?”

You’re so angry and it would be so easy to just let the winds tear him apart or to push him just a little beyond the roof’s reach and release, but you know you could never do that. You calm the winds and he drops to the roof, landing unsteadily but quickly regaining his balance.

“I’m not an idiot,” you whisper.

He steps towards you and looks around, making sure there are no other witnesses, you suppose. Then he pushes a button on the side of his watch. You should have known that keeping time wasn’t it’s primary purpose, the number of occasions when you’ve pointed out to him that it was wrong. And then Strider stands before you. Not The Tailorbird or whatever villainous name he’s chosen—just Strider, in jeans and a t-shirt like the two of you are about to go to the store and argue over which movies to rent.

“Why?” you ask again.

“I was never a very good hero,” he replies.

“You were a great hero!” you exclaim.

“There’s a difference between being good at numbly stopping crime and being a good hero.” You search his face for shame or guilt, but if there’s any embarrassment at all, it’s only because he was caught.

“What would Dave think?” you ask, your tone pleading for him to care, to question his actions, to repent.

“Which Dave? The one who left us for his real brother and real best friend, or the insufferable prick we’re left with? I honestly can’t convince myself to give a shit.”

“But Dave…”

“Never cared about us,” he interrupts. “Any emotional connection he felt with us at all was just because we looked an awful lot like people he loved. He’s gone, John, and we have to live our lives now, not the lives of some dead people he tried his best to pretend we were instead.”

“I…” You try to come up with words, but there’s nothing. You look between Strider and GT, who clearly already knew and is waiting on edge for your response, ready to attack despite his lack of a weapon. Of course GT knew. Strider undoubtedly used his lab to build all of his little devices.

“Don’t you…” You try again, but there are no words. There will never be any words.

“Just…” You wipe at your tears and turn away. “Just do whatever. I don’t care.” And you jump into the wind, letting it take you wherever it wants to blow.

You’re sitting on a couch with a blanket wrapped around you, watching Con Air for the seventh time in three days. You consider switching to one of the crappy movies made by this timeline’s Dave Strider, but that hurts to even think about so you stick with the classics. You and Strider haven’t talked about what happened, but you haven’t gone out crime fighting since and you’re not sure you ever will again.

Strider walks through the living room, all of the way past you and to the door without acknowledgement before changing his mind. He returns to the couch and crosses his arms, looking at you. “Aren’t you going to bust some evil?” he asks.

“Why bother?” you reply, burying further into the blanket. “I’m friends with the evil.”

He sits on the couch’s arm and studies you. This lasts so long that you almost forget he’s there, fully absorbed in Nicolas Cage’s reunion with his family. “Why don’t you come out with me and GT?” he asks finally.

You look up at him. He’s sincere. Despite the fact that he’s inviting you to be everything you hate, your heart jumps at being invited. A Strider is finally letting you in.

It’s just unfortunate that this time you don’t want in. “No,” you say. “But… thanks.”

“The invitation remains,” he says. “If you change your mind.”

And now he invites you to everything—not just the crimes, but meals, parties, group movie nights. And General Terror—no, not General Terror. Jake—likes all of the movies you like, so between the two of you you’re able to outnumber Strider and rent the best films.

You realize you like Jake. And you meet other villains, including ones you’ve fought, at joint hero/villain parties thrown by the Tipsy Gambit, and you realize they’re not so bad either.

And you swear you don’t know how it happens, but one day your answer when Strider invites you on a heist is not no, but maybe.

He gives you the watch as a gift, but you know it has a much more practical purpose. You feel a little sick to your stomach as you strap it on, but you understand that you have the choice to never use it for its intended function. He says that he’s fixed the clock mechanism so it should actually work if all you want it for is telling time.

When you’re alone in your room, you activate the villain disguise and look at yourself in the mirror, remembering how proud you were the first time you admired your hero outfit. You don’t resemble yourself at all—Strider gave you orangey blonde hair and pink accessories. Your face is just a little leaner, your eyes a little bigger.

You feel different than you expected to. You thought perhaps you’d feel more evil when dressed like a villain, or alternatively that you’d feel ashamed, but you just feel like yourself. Like nothing has changed.

And maybe it hasn’t. Or maybe life changes so quickly and constantly that eventually even the most major alterations just feel commonplace. You think about your dad and the hero institute. About Strider and Jake. You think about Dave. And suddenly you realize that you can’t convince yourself to give a shit what Dave thinks.

Jake and Strider lay out the plan to you. You’d have an essential role. There are things that can’t be done without your wind powers, and you wonder if they developed this plan after you said maybe, or if they’ve had it for awhile, waiting for you to come around.

The target is a Betty Crocker headquarters. You always did hate Betty Crocker, and its easy for you to believe that they’re evil, especially when Strider shows you some reports he and Jake dug up. You wonder if you can you justify evil against evil.

Honestly, though, you’re not even sure you still believe in evil—just, choices. Little, insignificant choices and momentous choices that all seem to equally determine the direction your life turns. What did you do so differently from Dave’s John? Weren’t both of you trying to be the same person?

You haven’t agreed to help yet. You can’t seem to vocalize the words that will so completely alter how you see yourself. But you already know that—eventually—you will.

The colors are becoming less vibrant, swirling and streaking together, blurring, and now all you feel is a calm breeze wafting around you, cradling you. It holds you close, and then blasts outwards. Though you don’t physically move, you feel like you’ve been slammed against the wall again. You blink as you regain your bearings, and you see John crouched in front of you. He used his wind powers to expel you from his mind like he was throwing you from a house.

“Let’s try that again,” he says, echoing your words from earlier. “When I’m not expecting it.”

You fight again, and again you try to enter his mind, but this time he’s ready for you, a tempest protecting his brain from intruders. You suspect you’ll never be able to access his thoughts again.

“All well in here?” GT asks from the doorway. He and TT are watching you. Apparently they thought you were taking too long.

You glance sidelong at John, who wafts gently to the ground and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“We were just finishing up,” you reply. “I’ve decided I approve.”

“Excellent,” GT exclaims. “Does this mean you’ll be joining us tomorrow?” he asks John.

John returns your gaze, then looks at GT and TT. “Yeah,” he answers finally. “Yeah, I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of the Superstuck AU. If you don’t read Superstuck, you should! There’s a whole bunch of characters, all of which you can find [here](http://generalterror.tumblr.com/faq).
> 
> Individual links for this story’s main characters, in order of appearance:  
> [Vriska Serket / Anarchy Goddess](http://anarchygoddess.tumblr.com/)  
> [Jake English / General Terror](http://generalterror.tumblr.com/)  
> [Dirk Strider / The Tailorbird](http://the-tailorbird.tumblr.com/)  
> [John Egbert / EvilBuster](http://evilbuster.tumblr.com/)  
> [Alternate Future Dave Strider / The Gatekeeper](http://the-gate-keeper.tumblr.com/)  
> [Otto Strider](http://ottostrider.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Other referenced characters:  
> [This Universe Dave Strider / Tatterdemalion Gear](http://tatterdemaliongear.tumblr.com/)  
> [Roxy Lalonde / Tipsy Gambit](http://tipsygambit.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks to you all for entertaining me and inspiring my imagination!


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